All's Fair In Lust and Death
by Nothing-to-do-with-tiki
Summary: I don't quite know how to make a summary for this as I don't really have the whole plot lined up. So I'll just write down some words/phrases to entice you: Kaneki/Ayato, serial killers!AU, not ghouls - just a bit/very fucked up. Have fun I guess.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm aware that there're other things that I need to update; calm your tits, I'll get there (eventually). In the mean time, have fun I guess.**

 **This is an AU; they're not ghouls in this. Disclaimer: shockhorror, I don't own Tokyo Ghoul or anything associated with it. I don't own much really...**

 **Also, gonna be OOC! here. Shiro!Kaneki**

He smiled, all sick and twisted, as it sunk in deeper and deeper. **_Finally,_** he thought. **_I should've done this sooner! It's amazing._**

Blood dribbled from the sides of the knife as it slipped further inside of the abdomen that he was stabbing. The dark crimson colour contrasted beautifully with the pale, creamy tones of the flesh.

Letting out a dark chuckle, he pulled out the knife once ensuring the incision was deep enough, and dug his hand into the cavern. The inside was hot and wet, just right for what he had in mind. _**It's like a luck dip,**_ he chuckled with child-like glee hidden in his tone. When his hand grazed against something silky and squishy, he grasped it tenderly and tugged it out.

Laying in his palm was a glistening red organ. _**Most likely her kidney,**_ he noted as he recalled pushing past what must have been her intestines to get that deep. His lips twitched upwards at the sight as got to his feet and made his way over to the canvas he had set up. He had a beautiful backdrop of the town from his window; that, coupled with the wonderful (to him; others, for some reason, disagreed) meaty smell of decaying flesh and bodily fluids, made for a very relaxed state of mind for him.

With the kidney still clutched in his hand, he raised it to the canvas and, like a fleshy sponge, spread it across the surface in broad strokes. In its wake was a lovely red streak. Continuing with brisk, even strokes, he began to build up his masterpiece.

 _ **This'll be the one,**_ he thought with determination.

A few hours later, as the sun peaked over the hills in the distance and bathed his apartment in a soft orange/yellow glow, he stood back to admire his work.

"Perfect", he mumbled to himself. It was a gruesome recreation of the mangled corpse laying before him, all done in red, with blank holes for eyes; he had cut them out earlier thinking that they would be adequate painting tools. He had been wrong and, in his frustration, threw them against his blank wall leaving behind two distinct splotches of red before they dropped down to rest against his scurting board.

He walked back over to the body, the blood now dry and congealing, the flesh a sickly pale colour, and dragged it through a darkly painted door frame. He left the body there while he gathered his cleaning supplies from the cupboard to his left. He spent a good half-hour folding up and putting away the sheet that he laid the body on top of and scrubbing up any specks of blood that that may have escaped from the sheet.

After washing his hands,changing his clothes and putting away his painting, he walked back over to the body and pulled it inside of the room. Inside the room two tables stood next to each other; one held tools and the was bare. Next to them was a stack of paintings leaning against the wall, all dry and flaking (slightly).

On the top was his new one, still a bit wet, the red glistening in the artificial glare of the lights.

The rest of the room held nothing of interest; a few photographs of mangled bodies hung on the wall, nicely framed. On the opposite side of the room was a freezer with a glass door. The contents of said freezer were what he liked to call his trophies - rows of heads, all with the eyes neatly, professionally, removed.

Sighing in contentment, he turned back to the body he was holding by its wrist. The flesh was slightly spoiled on the inside, rigor mortis having long since set in, but a few good cuts for pleasure were still manageable he judged.

He hoisted the body over his shoulder and strolled over to the bare table where he carefully deposited the corpse. After musing to himself about where to start, he grabbed a specially sharp knife from the table to his left and raised his arm. He giggled to himself before he brought his arm down, already anticipating the sharp tug of ridged metal against stiff flesh and bone -

There was a series of three sharp raps against his front door.

Grumbling to himself, he set the knife down and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

He marched towards the front door, wiping his hands on his jeans before opening it. Outside was a male around his age (22, thank you for asking) with white hair and drab, dark clothes. His features were nicely proportioned, dark eyes with an odd red hue staring back at him dully.

"My roommate heard screaming and banging earlier. I was coerced into coming up here and checking on your well being." He had a monotonous voice, as if the very thought of there being any type of trouble bored him right to his very core.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking." He made to shut the door and found that he couldn't as there was a hand gripping it, keeping it open.

"Yes? Was there something else?"

Dark eyes flickered down to his jeans and then back up to his face before a set of thin, red lips opened:

"You may want to clean up after yourself properly next time. There're still leftovers of your hobby on your trousers." The strangers' mouth curled up into a smirk, the red hue growing more pronounced - a hungry, almost ravenous, glint to them.

Hand almost stroking down the door to the handle, the stranger grasped it and pulled it out of the other's surprised, loose grip.

Just as the door was about to close he heard a diabolical voice say, "I recommend Vanish. It's always been efficient when I've used it," the smirk prominent in his voice, coupled with a chuckle that sent shivers running up and down his spine.

When the door closed behind the man, he exhaled softly not realising that he had been holding his breath during the encounter.

Peering down, he saw that there were indeed specks of blood staining his jeans.

 ** _He's... interesting,_** he thought to himself as he walked back over to the door, unlocking it and making his way inside. _**I'll have to find out more, I suppose.**_

He strolled back over to the body. **_But not just yet. I have work to do._** Grinning, he gripped his knife and swung swiftly, making a clean cut through the neck and moaning at the resistance he felt, eyes rolling back in his head.

Alas, the blood was already congealed inside and fell out in undignified reddish-black clumps.

Grimacing slightly at the sight, he swung again and shuddered in pleasure as the bone cracked and gave way underneath his powerful blow.

 **This, surely, was the best way to feel alive.**

 **Right, so this one won't end happily. It's Kaneki/Ayato, yes, but it's purely lust with no deeper feelings. I've already written the next two chapters so they should pop up pretty soon.**

 **-TH.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

He was coming back from a calm stroll down the neighbourhood at 11 pm, thinking of his most recent art participant (a short-haired red head with an abundance of freckles) when he heard it. A muffled scream that was cut off by a quick slicing sound and followed by a quiet moan.

Peering curiously around the corner of the dark alleyway next to his apartment building, he caught a glimpse of familiar white hair that looked almost silver when hit with moonlight. Upon closer inspection, he could see that the stranger was holding a knife that was glinting in the dim light in one hand and holding up a limp body with the other.

Taking a few quiet steps forward, he asked, "Need some help?" in a noncommittal tone.

The strangers' grip grew tense before relaxing, and a faint smirk could be seen playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Sure, why not? Hold her up would you; I need to get the backdoor open."

His steps emboldened with confidence, he reached out toward the body and steadied it. This close to him, he could clearly see the red that almost fully enveloped the man's predatory gaze, sending a curl of heat rushing through him.

He turned back to the body that he was keeping upright and admired the cut along the neck - it was clean with minimal mess; just a beautiful, steady stream of red flowing down to the chest.

Hearing a quiet chuckle, he looked back up only to see two fingers held in front of his mouth, both coated generously in the dark red liquid.

He glanced up at the (mostly) red eyes and managed to decipher the command within them. Leaning forward ever-so-slightly, he opened his mouth, encircling the digits and wrapping his tongue around them.

The metallic taste had him moaning around the fingers and he brought up his hand to grip at the other's wrist, holding it there as he began to suck.

The stranger watched in fascination as the other devoured the liquid on his fingers, a blistering heat starting to unfurl within him.

Stepping back, he let go of the strangers' wrist, the fingers smudging a faint red line of blood and saliva down his chin that the other stooped down to slowly lick off.

Facing the body once more, he stared blandly at the dull grey eyes and expression still twisted in horror. It neither pleased nor displeased him. He saw the corpse as nothing more than free, cheap and good-quality painting tools.

A husky voice from behind him whispered,"You can take what you like after I'm done if you want. I only need the face," hot breath ghosting against the back of his neck.

He smiled and nodded in appreciation.

"Just help me get it upstairs, okay? It's kinda heavy." The stranger said the last part in a slightly mocking voice targeted towards the sack of painting tools the other was holding up.

He yanked open the door and knelt down to take hold of the ankles. They slowly made their way through the door and up the stairs, straining their hearing to listen out for people. Luckily, they didn't encounter anyone else and made it back to his flat successfully.

It was dark and quiet; _**No roommate here tonight** , _a dark voice whispered in the back of his mind. His purple eyes darkened at the thought.

The other seemed to sense this and smiled lecherously.

They continued over to a door on his left into a well-lit, chilled room.

"Just lay it on the table over there." He gestured to the table with his head, his white fringe slipping into his eyes that had grown overly heated, enhancing the already-present red hue. There was a sense of anticipation in the air, partnered with excitement and blood lust.

The stranger wandered over to a desk and took out a small, sharpened knife and took it back over to the body. He slowly and carefully sunk it in around the edge of the face, starting at the base of the jaw, the other watching raptly.

Blood beaded at the wound before he produced a long, thin, metal stick that seemed to cauterize the wound. With this he could control the blood flow around the cut and carried on, stopping to prevent blood from staining the skin.

This went on for a further estimated hour and a half before he set down his tools and gently lifted the face (devoid of stains on the front) off of the head.

"What do you think? I'll freeze it, clean it out and paint it tomorrow." He said with a giddy lilt to his voice, clearly pleased with his work.

He had no words; he could only stare in awe. Sensing this, the stranger ( ** _but is he really?_** ) smirked and left to put the face/mask into his freezer. When he returned, he had removed his bloodied shirt, smears of red on his abdomen reminding him of 'paint' strokes.

He glanced at the smears ravenously, licking his lips as saliva started to pool in his mouth. The 'stranger' nodded in approval and, as if some kind of bindings had been snapped, he lunged forward, fell to his knees and placed his mouth upon his stomach.

His hands came up to rasp the other's hips in a punishing grip, sure to leave bruises- which pleased him greatly- and started to suck on the bloodied flesh, producing a moan from the other. The blood had a heady metallic taste and he needed _more._ His tongue prodded harshly into the others' muscle, trying to tear its way beneath his flesh to the silky red fluid beneath.

Steady fingers grasped his hair and tugged, causing him to break away and look up with a frown. He was irritated at being stopped until he saw the slightly blunted scalpel in the others' hand. His gaze traveled up to their eyes and saw that they were clouded over with desire. Understanding what he was telling him, he took the scalpel and made a long, shallow cut along his hipbone.

Once he was satisfied with the length of the cut, he dropped his hand and latched onto the bloodied line with his mouth, sucking with fervour. His ministrations brought forth a loud, drawn-out moan from the other, their fingers digging into his scalp.

Simultaneously, he brought up both hands and made another cut while unzipping their jeans and cupping the bulge in their boxers.

His mind was swimming, cloudy with desire, pure hunger for the liquids dripping into his mouth and being spread beneath fabric under his hand.

The hand in his hair tugged upwards again and he glanced up. Once again, understanding what he saw in their eyes, he stood up and, mouth filled with blood, placed his lips over the others' and let it drip into his mouth while slipping his hand below his waistband and grasping the other man properly in his hand.

It wasn't a kiss, it was a transferal of the blood that they both craved, satiating their hunger together.

At the same time he but harshly into the others' lip and thumbed at his slit with equal callousness, licking at the blood that welled up from his harsh handling.

He ducked back down, giving his tip a lick in passing ( ** _his back fucking bowed_**) suckled at the cut again, gathering more of the red liquid into his mouth before standing again and reattaching their lips.

This process continued until he could feel the other shaking with pleasure, his grip having tightened and stopped, allowing him to thrust up into his fist. Their mouths were both stained red from the blood, both their lips having been bitten at harshly by the other - desperate to get more blood flowing between them.

The hand that had been nearly crushing the others' hip relinquished its hold and trailed into his own underwear, feverishly rubbing up and down, while he regained his pace with his other hand; he had a hunger for _another_ liquid now.

His rushed pace continued on, the near crushing heat burning throughout him, the others' loud moaning blanketing him in arousal, before finally, _finally -_

It was like dam had broken, and the heat _rushed_ out of him. As he rode his climax, he latched onto the others' lip and damn near bit a hole into it, causing them to give off one last, heady moan, before spilling into his waiting hand.

They both became overwhelmed from waves of pleasure and relief washing over them, collapsing to the floor, a tired haze enveloping them both.

 _ **Very interesting** , _he thought with a quiet, barely there huff of breath, not registering the mouth licking off the remnants of their climax from his hands and a narrow, predatory gaze trailing across his form as he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.


End file.
